And as the World Fell Apart
by Tyler Bateman Esq
Summary: An 18 year old Patrick Bateman takes to stalking the halls of Hogwarts. Constructive criticism please.
1. Common Room

**And as the World Fell Apart...**

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**Bateman's notes: About a year ago, I remember reading a Harry Potter tale on this site by the highly respected author, Princess Lauren Scavenger. No, not 'Encounter in the Library', but a little piece who's title I forget, but who's storyline I wouldn't. A mildly slashy affair, it put across the idea that Tyler Durden, from the book 'Fight Club', was a real person and a pupil at Hogwarts. The story lasted two chapters before it was lost forever in Scaveneger's Hard Drive**™**. Now, I've done a few crossovers before, but Scavenger's tale encouraged me to write a Harry Potter. So, two years on, here it is. I won't say who it's a crossover with until the end.  Enjoy!**

**Dedicated to Scavenger.**

****

**Common room**

I had trapped the spider under a glass tumbler. It had been crawling along the polished oak table of our common room and one by one the girls began to scream. Feeling somewhat violated by the noise, I made my way to table and imprisoned it in the aforementioned glass. 

"Don't kill it!" Kelly, a little hard body with red hair, cried, "Don't be cruel."

"But you were just screaming for it to go away..." Price started

"Now, Price," I interrupted "If Kelly here doesn't want me to kill this creature then I won't." 

Price snorted. Despite being one of my closest friends, he could be quite an asshole when he wanted. I threw a smile at Kelly and a glance at her chest. She had begun to blossom when she was ten and now, many a Slytherin had tried to find out what hid beneath the sixteen year old's robes. Kelly smiled back at me and pushed a stray autumn coloured lock of hair behind her left ear. I tore a page out of a nearby sketchpad and slipped it under the rim of the glass. 

"Now, all I have to do is carry this little combo over to the window and let the little guy crawl out." I beamed,

"Oh, you are precious." Price mocked,

"Leave him alone!" Kelly said, "I happen to think he is precious."

She stood near and placed a kiss upon my cheek. Her bosom pressed against my arm. Whether this was unintentional or not, I made a mental note to ask her to Hogsmeade later this week. Kelly smiled again and then, she and her breasts left the common room. I was about to pick the glass up and take the spider to the window when the ego landed. Draco Malfoy and his two bodyguards walked in. Once he had entered the room, a piss stream of what he called friends gathered around him. He sat himself down on the red cushioned couch and began to talk about the events of last year. There wasn't a pupil at Hogwarts who wasn't aware of how You-Know-Who had risen again, but Malfoy liked to regale the story to his heathens with the emphasis being on how the world had now changed for the better.

"Now that You-Know-Who is back, Fumblebore will have to sit up and take notice." he sneered giving a wink to Pansy, "Maybe he'll actually go about tightening the restrictions on the intake for this establishment. The less mudbloods the better. After all, dear old Albus wouldn't want to face the wrath of the Deatheaters."

I took my hand from the glass and walked over to merry mob.

"You sound like you know from experience, Malfoy." I said, rubbing the back of my neck with a well-manicured hand,

Malfoy looked up in my direction and sneered. It was common knowledge that Malfoy hated Harry Potter. I think in his eyes, I came a close second. Ah well.

"What's it to you?"

"I'm just saying that if you go around talking about the Deatheaters, sooner or later someone is going to start asking questions. Also, not everyone in this room wants to hear about your penchant for the more evil aspects of wizarding life."

The look I got off Malfoy was like that a dog gives when it's been shown a card trick.

"Why not concentrate all your efforts into something else." I continued, "There's so many things you could achieve. There are so many pressing problems to hand. We need to concentrate on using our magic to end world hunger and find a cure for the muggles AIDS epidemic. We should also be trying to make sure that education at Hogwarts is affordable for all people. We need to provide food and shelter for the homeless on Nocturn Alley. We have to encourage a return to traditional moral values and curb graphic sex and violence in the press, music and books. Most importantly we have to promote general social concern and less materialism in young people. All your talk about You-Know-Who isn't going to achieve that Malfoy. If you're not part of the solution, then you're part of the problem."

"Listen to him." the grease spot known as Pansy said, "He sounds like one of them from Gryffindor."

"Quite right, Pansy." Malfoy smiled, "Look why don't you just piss off. For someone who's supposed to be older then me, you really are a tremendous bore. I believe Potter is looking for another bed partner. Why don't you and Weasley go gang bang him now?"

I didn't speak. I didn't move. I just stared at Malfoy as if I were trying to burn a hole in his head. Very quickly, Malfoy began to feel uncomfortable and stood up.

"Come on, you lot. We're not going to get any peace here while this mudblood lover is around. Let's go down the great hall."

And with that they left. Price looked at me and I shrugged.

"Must have been something I said." I laughed,

"Must have." Price said, "Look, I'm off to the library. Catch you later?"

"It's a date."

Once Price had left and I was sure no one was looking, I let the spider out of the glass. However, before it even had chance to move, I crushed it beneath my thumb. 

My name is Patrick Bateman. I am eighteen years old. I have killed at least three people.

**Copyrights belong to JK Rowling and Brett Easton Ellis.**

**PS There will be more. You don't think I'm gonna write about Patrick Bateman and not mess the place up. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**


	2. Hermione

**Hermione**

Fade up and it's two days later. I meet Price in the library as we both have a project due for Professor Snape, one of Hogwart's finer members of the faculty. I find Price at the far end of the library. He holds a sleek crow's feather quill as if writing and yet, his parchment is blank. I try to think of a metaphor that relates this to Price's life, but it's easier to think of the members of The Weird Sisters naked and willing instead. Not that I would want to. Price notices my arrival and shoots me a dazzling smile. I am somewhat jealous of his teeth and bone structure, but I'd never tell him that. I seat myself next to him and take the stuff I need out of my satchel. Along the edge of my satchel, I notice that I have written something in someone's blood. I must have done it last night.

_Fuck me, I'm all out of enemies!_

I make a mental note to hide this before a teacher notices and shove the satchel under our table.

"So, what took you so long Bateman?" Price asks

"Sorry Price," I sigh, "I was reading my mail."

"Anything interesting?"

"I got a letter from Sean."

"How is the little STD?"

"Living it up in Durmstrung by the looks of it. He's been fucking some girl called Lauren for two months. He also makes of a note of the fact that some guy named Paul keeps following him around."

"Oh please," Price laughs "He's probably banging him as well. He really is quite a faggoty sonuvabitch."

"Are you calling my mother a bitch, Price?"

"I'm calling your mother a _slut_, Bateman."

"Touché."

For the next hour, Price and I make an effort to study. It annoys me that my father chose to send Sean to Durmstrung while I was sent to Hogwarts, but I feel if I can get grades that Sean could never beat then my seven years here will be justified. After the hour has past I begin to find myself restless and so I quench my ennui by trying to set fire to my textbook with a muggle lighter I bought in New York before I was shipped off here. Before I can make a successful attempt, my attention is taken by the three people who have walked into our arena of study. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who is very much in love with me. Price notices their arrival as well and slides closer to my side. I can smell an aftershave on his body that I cannot place. I do know that it is not expensive.

"Well, if it isn't Bateman's girlfriend, Hermione Granger." he whispers,

"Oh come on, Price," I say "For a start, she's only fifteen..."

"And you're _only_ eighteen. Christ, Bateman, it's not like I'm asking you to fuck a ten 

year old..."

"Must _everything_ boil down to sex with you, Timothy!" I almost shout,

"Well pardon me all to hell," Price says defensively, "No need to get an embolism about it, Patrick. I just thought you liked her that's all. Look, I'll catch you later. Let you cool off."

With that he packs up his things and leaves. Once he has gone I watch Hermione sat at her table with Weasley and Potter. They are discussing something in depth and a wave of terror rolls over me as I begin to think it's about me. I become very aware of my hair and my desire for a mirror is unbearable. After a while, Hermione walks over to my table. She stands in front of me, but faces a bookcase. She stretches her right arm to the top shelf and runs a delicate, pale index finger across the spines until she reaches the one she wants. She tries to grab it, but even on her tip toes she can't quite make it. I come from behind my table and make my way to her. I grab the book of the shelf and hold it out to her.

"Is the one you want?" I smile

She looks up to me with these huge clear eyes and I suddenly have the urge to find out what they would feel like in my hands. However, I push this thought to the back of my head.

"Thank you." she says taking the book.

"My pleasure. You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?"

"Urm, yes. You are?"

She doesn't know who I am. The concept seems foreign to me and I begin to panic that it's my hair that's making me look different.

"My name is Patrick Bateman."

"Oh yes, hello. Sorry, my head is awash with things today. Didn't you use to be friends with John Noonan before he disappeared."

"Yes, I was. His lost was a tragedy to us all. If I'm to be honest I wept for days."

Yes, I wept. Wept that I slit his jugular before I did anything to his body.

"I'm sorry to hear that. However, it is nice to hear someone from Slytherin share their feelings."

"Well, not everyone is like Draco Malfoy." I laugh

"A good thing too."

Suddenly, we both go quiet. I've run out of things to say. A brick replaces my Adam's apple and I struggle to create saliva in my mouth. The whole time I envision my hair making my head look like a giant rat. She's looking up at me waiting for me to say something. 

"Do... Would you like to accompany me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" I splutter out,

Hermione's eyes widen and she clutches the book I handed her tight to her bosom. 

"Well, urm, that would be nice, but..."

There's a but? 

"But?"

"It wouldn't be wise, would it? I'm from Gryffindor and you're Slytherin. I just don't think it would go down well with either party's friends."

I nod in agreement. My head rises and falls, but I can't say anything. Maybe she thought I would hurt her. I could have guaranteed she would have come home in piece. Ungrateful BITCH!

"Fine." I say hoarsely, "Fine. You're right. You're very right."

"Oh I hope I've not hurt your feelings."

"No. No. No no no no. I have to go now. I have to go do something else."

With as much dignity as I can muster I leave the library. Two hours later I come back for my satchel.

Flash forward and it's the weekend. It's half eleven and I'm leaving the public house I've spent the last five hours in. I decide to walk down a couple of alleys to get back to Hogwarts. This way I'm less likely to bump into anyone I know. In particular Hermione. As make my way down the first alley, I find my sense of smell is being raped. About two steps in front of me sits a pathetic example of a woman. Her robes are encrusted with dirt and urine. She looks about forty, but she's probably only thirty. I hold my breath and try to walk past her. 

"'Scuse me mister." the woman says "Can I trouble you for some money? I really need some food and the pub shuts in ten minutes."

"And you expect me to pay for your meal?" I say 

"No, you don't 'ave to do that. I'll take anything."

"Will you take it in the mouth?" I ask

She looks up at me and begins to cry.

"If that's want you want mister." 

She begins to clamber to her hands and knees. The very idea of having her lips around my erection makes me want to vomit all over her.

"Christ! You're whoring yourself out. Have you no respect for yourself? If you need money, why don't you magic some up?"

"I'd love to," she sobs "But the Ministry... The Ministry took away my wand. I'm not allowed to do any magic. I'm lucky they didn't throw me out into the muggle world."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's all you women do. You bitch about everything. Men can't do anything right. If we're not the right caste, then we're taking your magic away. Boo-fucking hoo!"

I notice that I'm beginning to scare this tramp and I get excited. I thrust my hand into my robe pocket and finger the gold plated tail-twig clippers I keep. 

"Look, I'm sorry." I say as sympathetically as I can "I didn't mean to scare you. I've had a very busy day and you're stench was making me a little delirious. I can help you! I'm a student at Hogwarts. My name's Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter!" the crone smiles "I 'eard 'bout you. You'll 'elp me?"

"Yes, why not?" I laugh "Give me your hand and let me help you up."

I grab the hand she holds out by it's wrist and inspect it.

"What delicate hands you have. Your fingers... So fragile."

With all my strength I throw a punch at her face. She stumbles backwards and the back of her head hits the wall. She's out cold. I kneel next to her and pull out the clippers. Placing one finger between the blades I squeeze gently. I am almost ecstatic when the pain of losing her finger wakes the crone up and she is conscious enough to realise what is happening to her. In my other pocket is a large blade I stole from the house elves in the kitchen.

When I have finished with her, I place the pieces into a dustbin and walk off. When her body is found, the authorities will put it down to the Deatheaters. I start to skip and laugh and at one point I kick a cat so hard it flies over four feet in front of me. I finish the night off by making myself a hot chocolate and then falling into a blissful, dreamless sleep in front of the glow of the common room fire.


	3. A Glimpse of Monday Evening

**A Glimpse of Monday Evening**

and we dissolve into December. I'm in a field some forty minutes outside of Hogsmeade. The old man whose throat I slit is sprawled across the crisp duvet of snow. The red claret pours from his throat and dyes the frozen water the same colour as a cherry slushy. A cherry slushy. The ones my father use to buy me when we were pretending to be muggles in New York. There's a faint twitch in the old man's left arm and I am suddenly overcome by such emotion that hold his head in my hands and kiss him. I wipe my eyes, eat some dirt and begin my trek back to Hogwart's. I walk into Hogsmeade at around about quarter past nine. The town is full and  I liken the public's close proximity to being wrapped in cling film. I crawl on all fours across the cobbles until I reach the stoop of a store where I end up sitting. I rock back and forth watching the air escape my throat like frozen screams. I hold out my hand for change and find I that am rewarded with various bits and pieces. I try to eat these coins, but I grow tired of trying to knaw though the metal. In my head I replay a moment in the common room when I overheard a fresh faced twelve year old say the word 'cunt'. My thoughts are disturbed as someone I recognise to be Luis Carruthers. Luis is a fag. "Patrick," he says "_Patrick?_ Is that you?" I growl and hiss. "Patrick, you're fil_thy_. Get up at once and come with me back to Hogwart's." Luis is joined by another person who I do not recognise. They are probably in love with me or a faggot. "Oh, come on Luis!" they exclaim, "That's not Patrick." "But it looks like him." Luis holds out a hand and I try to bite it off. I fail. I feel remorse. "Luis, if that was Patrick, would he _really_ be sat in front of a store." "I suppose not." "Besides, I distinctly heard Patrick say he was going to be staying in the common room all day. Said Sunday was God's day and he wanted to respect  it." Luis says nothing more and escorted out of my sight. Another half hour or so later and I'm running, breathless, down the corridors of Hogwart's. Running somewhere in the direction, I think, is my common room. I think. Along the way I bump into Snape. "Bateman, what are you doing out at this time?" he sneers "It's gone ten. You should be in your common room." I don't answer. Instead I laugh. A long hard laugh. "Laugh you may do, Mr Bateman. However, I should let it be known that I will not see Slytherin lose house points because of some angst ridden little rich boy who is all pissed off because they haven't received their first pubic hair. Now get back to the common room." I laugh some more and push my way past Snape. When I think I am clear of him I run down to the abandon girl's toilets where Moaning Mirtle resides. I sit in the cubicle next to her and tell her about all the things I would do to her if she were alive. I think she becomes excited and so I tell her some more. I forced to make a quick retreat when appears in my cubicle and tries to force her ectoplasm on me in an erotic fashion. I am sick on a bust of Dumbledore. I am death. I am one. When I reach the common room, I find that everyone has gone to bed. Therefore, I pull out a bottle of rum I have hidden and I go sit by an open window. Through the window I can see four owls flying off towards the direction


	4. Ron Weasley

**Ron Weasley**

I am sat at the back of Advanced Muggle Studies and despite my usual vigour,  I start to think about what the fucking point of all this is. The events of the past week run through my mind and I begin to ponder upon whether I should just sharpen a scythe and slit the jugular of every mean spirited shit here. Just before my apathy towards the tutor can reach boiling point, I am reminded that it's time for my appointment.

Skip forward a few minutes and I'm climbing up the rope ladder to Ms Trelawney's room. The air smells musty and laced with marijuana. I believe Trelawney's is under the illusion that no one knows she smokes muggle drugs, but then again, Trelawney believes that she's psychic. When I make my way through the trapdoor, she is sat in her cloth chair next to the fire.

"Ah, Patrick." She says, "I sensed your presence."

Riiiight.

"I know." I say, "It's... spooky?"

She sighs.

"We all have our cross to bear."

She points to the chair that's in front of her. 

"Now, sit."

And so begins my therapy session.

I sit myself in the chair and make deliberate attempts not to look Trelawney in the eyes.

"Patrick, you look worried."

"Do I?"

"Yes. Do you want to tell me about it?"

Normally, I lie at this point and tell her everything she wants to hear, but this time I want to tell her everything. I feel rage. I feel hate. I feel like I want to vomit all over the world. Black vomit. I am suddenly thinking about a sexual encounter I had with a corpse last night. The thought doesn't turn me on. It doesn't turn me off either. It just is.

"Patrick," Trelawney interrupts my thoughts, "What are you thinking about?"

"I don't know whether it's because I'm bored. I don't know whether it's because Hermione Granger refuses to talk to me after we had sex last week. I don't whether it's the book I'm reading at the moment is failing to capture my imagination. Maybe it's because my brother, Sean, is a screaming faggot that's fucking some guy named Paul. Whatever it is I am coming to the undeniable conclusion that the world is a horrible and twisted place."

Trelawney sighs and agrees with me. Our session lasts an hour and then I'm in the dining room trying to get Hermione to look me directly in the eye.

Fast forward two more weeks and it's Christmas. Most of Slytherin has left to go on holiday. The only ones around are myself, Price, Malfoy, Noonan and a few more. We all spend most of our time in the dining room. Price challenges people to chess while I sit in the corner reading a novel about muggle police in the 50's, The Big Nowhere. I'm at a particularly interesting point where the young Deputy Upshaw has found the bodies of two homos. The description of the bodies is extremely detailed and I begin to imagine that I am sat having a meal with the murderer from the book, the Wolverine. He sounds like my kind of fellow. My fantasies are cut short when I realise that I am being stared at from across the room. I look over the top of my book to see Carruthers is smiling and waving to me. I give a thin smile and then return to my book. Two minutes later, he is stood over me. I pretend I haven't seen him. Then he begins to cough. A little faggoty cough. I still ignore him and turn to the next page. He coughs louder. I throw my book down in a fit of anger.

"What, Luis?" I shout "Why are you fucking coughing? Do you want my attention or do you have fucking VD again?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you reading time." He says, oblivious to my temper, "It's just that me and a few of the other Hufflepuffs are getting together to have a bit of a Christmas party. I thought you might like to come."

"You have alcohol?" I ask

"Why yes. We snuck some in just after everyone left to go home. Oh, please say you'll come. You're the only Slytherin we've asked to come. Pleeeease."

He begins to batter his eyelids. I try not to vomit all over his face. I should really decline, but the prospect of alcohol and the fact that I am exclusive to the rest of Slytherin makes me say yes.

A couple of hours later, I'm stood outside the Hufflepuff common room. I say the password and make my way through the now revealed door. When I enter, a wave of jealousy sweeps over me when I realise that the Hufflepuff common room is better then Slytherin's. It's meticulously decorated in sumptuous blues and gold. A large Christmas tree stands in the corner surrounded by presents. Before I have time to look around anymore, Carruthers is bounding up to me like a large bloodhound.

"Oh, Patrick!" he minces, "You made it! I knew you would. Drink?"

"Do you have any whiskey?" I ask

Luis lowers his head a little and looks up at me. The result of which makes me want to glass him.

"Oh, Patrick, I'm sorry. We don't. Can I get you a beer? Would a beer be okay?"

No, you prick! A beer would not be okay. "That'd be fine." I smile,

Luis bows and runs off to find a beer. Although I don't want to leave, I decide that I have to hide from Luis. There are quite a few guys here and so I think I can do it. Just before I go to find my hiding place, I'm confronted by Ron Weasley.

"Patrick, hi." he says shyly,

"Weasley, how are you?" 

"Um... fine. Yeah, I'm fine. Beer?"

He hands me a plastic pint glass and I except. I've noticed Weasley looking at me before. He is clearly in awe of me. We both stand quietly supping our beer. I begin to notice that girls are thin on the ground and go to say something to Ron when I spy Luis is kissing Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor. I nudge Weasley and point them out.

"My God, have you seen those two?" I whisper,

Weasley giggles. He actually giggles.

"I know. Longbottom is soo ugly."

"That's not quite what I meant, Weasley, but, yes, he was at the back of the queue when God handed out looks."

Weasley giggles again and finishes his beer in one go.

"C'mon, let's go somewhere else before he makes us vomit." Weasley says,

I agree.

"Shouldn't we get some more alcohol?" I ask

"This stuff? Nah!"

He pulls out a hip flask from his pocket. I begin to sweat as I realise that I should have come up with that idea and not Weasley.

"This is some of my brother's home-brew. It tastes like ginger beer, but acts like vodka."

"Weasley, show me the way." I smile, beginning to like Weasley's style,

We go upstairs and barricade ourselves in one of the first years bedroom. We know we won't be disturbed because all first years go home at Christmas. We finish off the hip flask. It's quite potent. After much laughter, Ron goes quiet.

"Ron? Ron, what's the matter?"

I feel drunk.

"Did you really sleep with Hermione?" he slurs,

"Ah Well... Yes, I did. It just happened. I found her crying in the library..."

"Yeah, me and her had a fight." Weasley interrupts, "I told her something she didn't want to know."

"I see. Well, I guess I comforted her. It was nothing really. I was expecting it to end differently, but there she is... Still alive."

Ron ignores this last part and begins to weep. Normally, I would leave the room, but I am drunk and so I place a comforting hand on his knee.

"Hey.. Now come on, Weasley. Stop crying. If you want her, she's yours. It meant nothing, I swear."

Ron looks up at me. His eyes are red with tears. He wipes them away with the sleeve of his jumper.

"Really?" he asks

"Really!" I reemphasise,

He smiles and the before I know his lips are on mine. His hand reaches for my groin and I'm hard. This fifth year is rubbing me up and I'm hard. I push him away.

"What the fuck?" I shout, 

"Patrick, I'm sorry. I thought..."

I make a break for the door and run downstairs to the common room. When I walk into the room, I find that everyone is getting off on everyone else. Normally, I am fine with this, but everyone here is male. Even those few I thought were girls... Everyone is either kissing or fucking. Luis has Neville bent over the sofa and...

My God!

Luis looks into my eyes as he pumps away. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I turn around to find Ron staring up at me.

"Patrick, pleease..."

His hand reaches my face and he tries to kiss me again. His right leg is pushing it's way between mine. I push him as hard as I can and he hits the floor in a slobbering heap.

"From now on, don't ever turn your back on me." I say and leave the room,

The incidents of tonight have disturbed me. I kick and scream at the walls as I walk out of Hogwart's. I need to leave this place for a bit. I need to recapture some control.

Before I know it, I'm outside The Three Broomsticks. When I walk in, I see a beautiful woman of 21 sat near the fire. I buy two drinks off the barmaid. I make my to fire and sit down next to the girl. She looks at me suspiciously, but smiles when I hold out my hand.

"Hello, my name's Patrick Bateman. Would you like a drink?"

As we talk I put my hand in my pocket. Everything is fine. I remembered to bring my twig clippers.


	5. Favourite Things

**Favourite Things**

The snow when it's finally settled on the Quidditch pitch.

The way Hermione looks at me from over the top of her textbooks.

My mother.

Blood.

Bone.

Meat.

Flesh.

An ax buried in Dumbledore's back.

Sweet bird song.

These are a few of my favourite things.

I think I need help.


End file.
